Under the Wire
by delminions
Summary: The ever-elusive mercenary and spy Jonathan is finally caught after a mission in Canada by none other than Evan and his team - only for more secrets and lies to be exposed, leaving everybody struggling for their lives to be saved under the wire.
1. Hunt

The cold, thick woods of this part of Canada were usually isolated, inhabited only by the most vulnerable of wildlife attempting to take solace from the rougher, more dangerous parts of the wilderness. It was an ideal, yet isolated location inaccessible by regular people without the aid of vehicles, and the thickets provided much well-needed cover for prey to hide in. Prey, however, were not the only things hiding within the woods that day – amongst the densely-packed layers of bushes and trees was a man of slight stature, a shock of platinum blonde hair upon his head and a pair of legs that took him faster than his enemies could aim.

His hunter, however, had no need for aim. His eyes were sharp, able to make out the silhouette of his target through the thick white snow that would have blinded just about anybody else. He was used to it, perfectly in his element. There was no shivering, no shaking, and no reaction to the cold. He was just an owl stalking his prey as he ran through the woods as fast as his legs could take him – and soon, he would follow after him, speeding after the man like a beast. All he needed was for the man to run straight into his favorite trap.

He knew the woods like the back of his hand – he had spent the bulk of his life here, learning the path and the areas, learning the woods and the wilderness right down to each scratch on the bark of every tree. The woods harbored the quality of repetition – after a while, everything seemed the same, and one would have thought they had run in a circle, especially if they had taken multiple turns. The vastness of the woods made leaving difficult, nearly impossible, without knowing the intricacies of the place itself. The lack of this knowledge was what sent people away – and for those undaunted by the uncertainty of their fates, into death. It was this that the hunter depended on for his prey's demise.

And so he stalked his prey slowly, quietly, waiting for the slowdown and the fear and the panic to rise upon the man's face. He waited for the confusion, the backtracking, and the eventual realization as he saw his hunter, curled back and ready to pounce. He waited patiently, as any good predator would.

He knew, however, that his prey was not any ordinary man. He knew that there was always the chance that his prey had studied the area thoroughly before he came. He knew that there was always the chance that he had left markers behind, markers that were unknown to them that he could follow and find his way out. It was exactly why he had a backup plan – one that was near infallible.

"Tango spotted," a voice whispered into his earpiece.

"You know what to do," he replied, and prepared himself for the inevitable, his eyes still fixated on the figure weaving in and out of the trees.

A loud shot fired out in the distance, and a momentary flash appeared before his eyes. That was the signal – and he stood up from his position, shaking the cold out of his body, and ran after his prey as he ran straight into the confusion that awaited him.

He caught up with the man quickly and easily enough, stalking through the woods quietly, yet hastily. He watched as the man tried to run faster, only to be caught up to quickly. The hunter was quickly gaining on his prey, bit by bit, up until the prey was within his reach. In a quick burst of strength, he tackled the struggling man to the ground. His reflexes began to kick in – he dug his hip deep into the man's lower back, applying all his weight onto the man's body as he thrashed about wildly, grunting furiously from the effort. He leaned in onto the man, chest pressing onto the man's back as he dug around in his pockets for the rope that he had brought.

"I've apprehended him," he called out into his earpiece. "Keep your eyes peeled for reinforcements. Kill on sight if needed. I'll need help in getting him back to base in a bit."

"Roger that." A rough voice replied.

"Roger that," another voice followed.

There was a short pause before a third voice replied him.

"Evan…"

"Not now," Evan grunted as he began to bind his prey's hands and feet tightly, leaving red marks on the pale skin of the man beneath him. "Just do as I say."

"…Roger that." The voice finally replied softly.

"You've got the wrong person," the struggling man grumbled from underneath him.

"Sure, because just about any person would come to this part of the country, let alone this part of the world. You must've had a death wish." Evan replied smoothly as he tightened a final knot on the man's feet. "No, I'm pretty sure we've gotten the right guy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Jonathan Smith, codenamed Delirious, call sign H2O. Went under so many different names and disguises – but I think we've found you at last, haven't we?"

The man stopped struggling and stilled underneath Evan's body. Slowly, a soft, low, shaky laugh began to emerge from the man's chest.

"So you got me. So what? I know you too, Evan Fong. Or rather – 'Vanoss', codenamed Night Owl. Birthdate - May 31st, Mister and Mrs. Fong still residing in your birthplace of Ontario –"

"Shut up!" Evan yelled, and spun the man around roughly, his body still firmly pinned onto the man's. The man's eyes were an incredible, stunning blue – a blue that Evan had only seen one other time in his life, somewhere in his foggy past…

"Evan, I'm coming out to back you up." A voice murmured into his ear, interrupting his train of thought. "Brian's watching the perimeter and Brock's on standby."

"Got it," Evan answered, and focused back on the blue-eyed man before him.

"Who sent you?" He asked, fingers tracing across damp fabric and skin, reaching for the pressure point on the man's shoulder. "How much do you know?!"

As Jonathan's eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a firm, determined line, Evan pressed down hard on the tender spot between the bones in his shoulder. His face contorted in pain, brows furrowed in a futile attempt to focus and fight the urge to succumb to the physical ache that his body experienced. As much as he fought and resisted, it was evident that the pain was overwhelming, and Evan caught a few muffled grunts of pain escape Jonathan's lips. _Promising,_ he thought, as he pressed down much more forcefully on the same spot. The result was an agonized scream that left the man's pale lips as he began to struggle again, trying as best as he could to throw Evan off of him.

"Who sent you?!" Evan repeated, releasing the pressure on the man's shoulder slightly.

"Don't you mean… _hoo_ sent me, Night Owl?" The man breathed, mist forming in his breath as he spoke. The pain that was evident in his voice added an ironic little note to his joke – but Evan was in no mood for jokes. He wanted _answers_ , and he wanted the truth.

"Answer me." Evan commanded, pressing down onto the pressure point again. A sharp grunt emerged from within the depths of the man's chest as he fought the pain again, his body jerking and thrashing about in response.

There was a rustling from a distance behind Evan, and Evan released Jonathan slightly, relieved that his back-up had arrived. His relief was immediately erased by the deafening sound of a sniper shot, followed by the sound of a bullet hitting something firm, yet soft. He turned sharply behind to see Tyler immediately falling over onto the ground, face meeting the snow with a crimson red spot beginning to grow larger and larger over the back of his left shoulder.

"Ty-"

"Fuck," He half-screamed, his dominant arm instinctively cupping the newly inflicted injury. "They've got a sniper on us, those motherfuckers - !"

The man beneath Evan's weight began to shake as he laughed a maniacal laugh, the laughter of an absolute madman. It was the sound of a man completely pleased with himself, delighted at the knowledge of his enemies suffering, taking sadistic pleasure in watching the scene before him. It was as though the situation that he was in was of no consequence to him at all. _What a sick fucking bastard_.

Evan began to release the man cautiously and reluctantly. To his surprise, there was little to no attempt to escape from Jonathan – he simply lay limp on the snow, eyes turning towards the sky where snowflakes fluttered and slowly fell from between the leaves of the trees which hung above them. There was a childlike innocence about the entire scene – yet the fact that the man was an immediate danger to them and the fact that the man was undeniably deranged disturbed Evan enough to distrust the façade of innocence that was placed before him. Without once turning away from his captive, he backed away towards Tyler and set himself down besides his friend, comforting the injured man with Jonathan still within his sights.

"How bad is it?" Tyler grunted out, eyes seeking out Evan's for reassurance.

"Not too bad, I think. I don't think whoever it was hit anything vital. We'll get that looked at when we get back. Can you stand?"

"Yeah," Tyler mumbled, and attempted to stand, wincing with every inch that he moved. "Don't help me, I can do this on my own."

When he finally got back onto his feet, hand still cupped over the fresh wound in his shoulder, he hobbled over to Jonathan and kicked the man square in the sides, causing the man to cough out a shout of pain.

"Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?" Tyler taunted, voice rough with anger. "Too bad I didn't die in that shot. Now your pal's given himself away for nothing, didn't he?"

Furiously, he landed another painful kick into the man's side, and was about to continue with his physical assault against Jonathan just as Evan stopped him in his stride.

"That's enough. We need to get him back to base, remember?"

Tyler glanced at Evan momentarily, considering, before ending his attacks with a considerable amount of restraint. Fingers trembling, he pulled a gun out from a holster and pointed it at Jonathan just as Evan helped the man to his feet.

"You guys know I'm not telling you anything, right?" Jonathan murmured, smirking as he stood. "I'll get away with everything, as always. I've gotten out from tougher situations than this. I've gotten out from things more impossible than this."

His snide comments earned him a resounding smack across the face from Tyler, alongside a gruff command for him to shut up. Instantaneously, Evan grabbed Tyler just as he was about to slap Jonathan once more, and waited for the man to calm down slightly before pulling out a blindfold, securing it around Jonathan's eyes.

"We're bringing you back to our base, either way. Try to run, and Wildcat will shoot you down, so you had better cooperate with us. Is that understood?"

To his annoyance, Jonathan simply blew a half-baked attempt at a raspberry at him.

"Move," Tyler commanded, kicking at the man's bound feet roughly to incite action.

"I can't move if my legs are tied up like that, you know." Jonathan replied, a coy smile upon his face. "Why don't you cut me loose and let me walk on my own? I swear I won't run. Maybe I'll hobble, but I won't run."

"Very fucking funny," Evan groaned, and began to drag Jonathan along in an alternate pathway back to their base, making great care to avoid the path that Tyler had been shot at and the line of sight available from it. He was determined to keep the party from any further injury – even the hostage. If the enemy had orders to take down Jonathan in the scenario of capture, he had to keep the enemy he had in hand alive. The information was vital – much more important than the satisfaction of ridding themselves of their enemies.

The journey back towards their base was not easy. The base was well hidden amongst the thickets and the rocks and snow, and it took a trained eye to find the entrance to the base. Along the way, Evan called back Brock to assist him at base and instructed Brian to keep a lookout for any individuals attempting to make it past the perimeter, and to apprehend them on sight. His orders went down easily with them both, and Evan would have been entirely at ease with the rest of the rocky journey if not for Jonathan's incessant babbling.

"You're Wildcat," he drawled. "Or rather, _Tyler_. I didn't think you'd be so tall. Just like how I didn't think Evan here would be so bulky in person. How was Tennessee like? Did your parents ever find out you never moved to Indiana but came to Canada instead?"

"Shut the fuck up," Tyler growled from behind Evan.

"But," Jonathan continued defiantly, "I don't they matter as much as that girl… ah, what's her name, _Kelly_?"

Evan turned back almost instantly to throw Tyler a warning glare. The man looked just about ready to snap, with all his buttons pushed in and his patience worn thin. Amongst the anger was a tiny bit of shock and surprise at the sheer amount that Jonathan knew about him. His eyes widened in anger and shock, he slowly reigned his emotions in under Evan's stare, and sulked silently with his gun still pointed warily at Jonathan.

"Do you miss her? She looked _amazing_ in photographs. Too bad…"

Tyler hissed angrily at Jonathan, causing Evan to glance back at him once more, silently ordering him to stand down. Once more, Tyler fell silent, his anger barely contained within his frame.

It wasn't long before Evan found the entrance to their base. Brock was already waiting for the trio by the doorway, his gun ready in his arms, yet his body seemingly entirely reluctant to make use of the lethal weapon. There was something melancholic and entirely unfitting about the entire image – Brock's kindly, round face held a mildly miserable expression as he held onto the deathly weapon in his arms.

"Hurry inside," his soft voice pierced the air delicately. "Before anyone sees us."

"Is that Moo? Or is that Terroriser? I honestly can't tell who's supposed to sound like that, you know," Jonathan piped up, almost too cheerily.

"None of your damn business," Tyler bit back roughly, and motioned at his wounded shoulder to Brock. "Can you do something about this? Sniper shot."

"Follow me," Brock said, and Tyler and Brock disappeared into a hallway that led to the infirmary of the base. Evan, however, had a slightly tougher job: he had to bring Jonathan to the interrogation room and begin interrogations – something that he hesitated to do, for he was never entirely comfortable with, let alone be good at.

He had watched countless interrogations before, conducted by many different people from his superiors to his own peers. The ones that his superiors conducted often ended successfully – yet, he could always see the brokenness in the captive's eyes, with all of their natural guardedness cracked and broken into a million fragments under the pressure of interrogation. The ones that he and his peers had conducted varied – the ones that Tyler had more often than not, in more recent times, ended in a bloody mess. Brock barely could bring himself to use rougher interrogation methods, and Brian often met difficulties in manipulating the information out of their captives. Evan was not too far off from all that.

Even in that moment he was troubled with a dilemma. Jonathan looked as though he was in no condition to attempt escape, and protocol stated that there would be no need for any extreme forms of restraints. After all, it was ideal to keep the prisoner comfortable until force is absolutely necessary to ensure that information is thoroughly coaxed out of them. Yet Evan knew that Jonathan would probably be capable of more than he looked like he was capable of, and he was sorely tempted to chain the man up completely against the man's will.

With a sigh, he settled for something similar. He lowered a large hook that hung above at the very top of the room and looped the ropes that bound Jonathan's wrists around it. Slowly, he tugged at a chain until the hook lifted itself up, bringing Jonathan along with it until he was tethered to the hook by his wrists, with his arms raised and with his feet only an inch or two above the ground. The muscles on his arms contracted almost immediately in response, the details of his muscles throbbing and exposing themselves as they struggled against the strain that they faced.

Jonathan was, however, unfazed.

"This isn't going to make me talk," he spat out through gritted teeth. "I'll never tell you what I know, Vanoss."

"You'd better. You'll get to go if you tell us what we want to know," Evan replied as he removed Jonathan's blindfolds, gazing once more into the amazingly blue eyes.

"I don't _need_ to go. I'm exactly where I need to be. I don't even need to escape."

"Doubt it. If what you're doing now is anything like your past missions, it's just intel that you've been looking for. And if you've found anything, I'll make you tell me what you've found."

Jonathan laughed, his whole body shaking with mirth. "You are so wrong. And I know you. You're soft. People that your dear friend Tyler would've beaten up and turned into pulp, you barely make a scratch on. And when you do beat people up, you do it like you barely even mean it. I know your style, and you'll only ever lightly scrape me. You'll never get anything out of anyone, let alone me. You're the prime Canadian, you know? So… _polite_. Do you _really_ think you'll ever get _anything_ out of me?"

Evan raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think I can't get anything out of you? My team and I have been trained for this. We've been trained to extract information from even the toughest of people. I guarantee you that you'll spill as long as we keep you here."

Jonathan laughed once more. "You won't be here _that_ long, baby. You're not the only one with friends."

"They'll never find you." Evan threatened. "And even if they do, we're equipped to kill every single one of them. Even _you_. So be a good boy and tell me what you know, won't you?"

The devilish smirk upon Jonathan's face continued to grow – the man didn't seem in the least bit threatened by Evan or where he was. "What _I_ know? I'll tell you what I know about you. Your mother and father thought you were going to work in Los Angeles. It was a lie, that's what it was. You got offered a job by Ezra Simmons, your boss when you first came in. He thought you would be an asset, and you came all the way to this part of Canada for him. He was right, wasn't he? You proved to be one of the toughest of fighters and best of hunters in the organization. If your mom and dad knew, they'd be so proud of their son."

"Don't you _dare_." Evan growled. He suddenly understood how Tyler felt. Jonathan was pressing all of his buttons on purpose, reaching into all the personal and sensitive aspects of his life so that he would lose control. And if he did, Jonathan had all the power in the world to make Evan do his bidding. It was basic manipulation, something that Evan had been trained extensively to recognize and fight against. He refused to succumb to the psychological warfare that Jonathan had declared upon him. He _had_ to resist.

"But Mommy and Daddy don't even know where you _really_ are, Evan." Jonathan continued, a devious glint in his eyes. "How do you think they'll react if they find out that their son is working for a shady organization and that he might've died in the Canadian wilderness?"

"Shut up!" Evan yelled, his hands balling into fists by his sides. The knowledge that Jonathan knew about his parents and their whereabouts irked him greatly – it meant that they were in danger of enemy attacks, and it also meant that they would be used as leverage against him, to trap him in place. The idea of using innocent lives as leverage as if they were mere objects or toys disgusted him, and all Evan wanted to do in the moment was to strike Jonathan in the face and stop the pretty pair of lips from moving ever again.

 _Stop_ , he told himself. _Don't let him win_.

He straightened up, mentally willing all his muscles to relax. "I don't care what you know about me, _Delirious_ ," he half-sneered. "And if you don't want to tell me what you know and what intel you've gotten, that's fine by me. We've got people scouring the perimeter for your people. Specifically, your sniper friend that shot Wildcat. And when we get him here, you're going to talk – or _he_ is."

A momentary look of anxiousness flickered upon Jonathan's face. Almost as instantly as worry was expressed in his eyes, it was masked with a false blankness as his expression became void and empty, as if nothing had happened at all. If there was anything Evan knew, it was that emotions that were concealed with such rapidity and ferocity were more often than not genuine and easily manipulated to his advantage. It was a good sign for the interrogation – it revealed a weak spot that Jonathan had. The more he tried to conceal the fact that his friend's well-being concerned him, the more evident it was, and the more Evan could use that knowledge to his advantage.

"So, are you ready to talk?" Evan prompted once more. "Or should we bring him in to speak for you?"

"Nobody's telling you anything." Jonathan simply said, biting his lower lip slightly.

"I could wait all day, Delirious. I'll just sit right here and wait 'til you tell me something. But believe me, you'll wish you'd talked to me. Sure, I can hurt you, but you've said it yourself – Tyler will beat you to a pulp. And when he comes in, you'll wish you told me everything instead. So it's all up to you – talk now, or wait for worse. And if you don't talk either way, there's always your dear friend we can work with. Then maybe we'd throw you to the wolves in the wilderness, see how things go from there."

"Do that, then," Jonathan grunted, his arms beginning to shake slightly from the strain it was under. "At least I don't have to tell them shit."

"Not from here, are you?" Evan smirked. "Then maybe you'd like to know that the wolves here are pretty brutal. They wouldn't just bite you. They'll drag you across the wilderness to where the rest of the pack is, and they'd snap at you until your neck breaks. And maybe they'll eat you. Or maybe the bears will. You'll die slowly and painfully, and you wouldn't even know how to fight it."

"You'd think I was never trained for my mission," Jonathan bit back. "Bad news for you, because I have."

"And unfortunately your training wasn't comprehensive enough, because you're here with us right now." Evan finished for him. The interrogation was veering off into a different direction entirely, and he had to get back on track. Threats were proving ineffective, and he needed another way in to what Jonathan knew.

"So where're you from? That's not quite an accent I recognize." Evan began again slowly, attempting to make his question sound as innocuous as he could. "Illinois? Michigan?"

"Not telling you anything."

Evan pushed further. "Missouri? I'm tempted to go further south based on how you talk."

"I don't have an accent, so shut it."

"You do. It's just weird, that's all. Like… all mixed up and messy. I thought I heard a slight bit of American South in there, but I also hear some Midwest, too."

"I'm not –" Jonathan started sharply, before stopping short and wincing slightly as a spasm worked its way through the muscles in his arms. "I'm not going to tell you where I'm from. And there's no organization, so there's no point in finding out where I come from."

Evan raised a brow, mildly surprised that his act had been seen through. Regardless, he knew he had to continue. "You know I won't believe that, right? Mercenaries don't just do this sort of thing without being paid. You got hired – and I want to know who hired you."

"And what makes – what makes you think… what makes you think I'll tell you?"

"Pain," Evan answered simply. "And the fact that your friend might be here any second now. So you'll probably want to talk before you suffer even more."

"I'm not scared of pain, and I'm not scared of what any of you will do." Jonathan murmured through gritted teeth, his shoulder blades buckling under the pressure. "In fact, I don't think you've even caught Lu… that you've even caught him."

Jonathan was resisting incredibly well, faring much better than most other subjects of Evan's interrogation despite the discomfort and pain that he was going through. Even the threats were stomached without striking much terror within him, and Evan began to wonder if more drastic means were needed to extract the information that Jonathan held so close to his heart. He had a minute reluctance to do so – there was nothing to be gained given how tight-lipped he was trained to be. There would just be blood and violence and vengeance. Evan needed leverage against the man, and he needed it badly.

He was, however, slipping slightly, and Evan could see that. Evan was trained similarly – to put up with the pain when interrogated, to not even show the slightest hint of personality and to not show fear or response to pain in the face of hostility. Jonathan was showing signs of him slipping up, something surprising for somebody who was trained as extensively as he had been. A little voice in Evan's head began to file away suspicions, one by one, about it all being an act to bring Evan's guard down, and Evan willed the same little voice to shut up. He had no reason to be overtly suspicious or to overthink things. After all, it was only natural to show pain. There was little to be gained from using that as a manipulative tool, especially if one's interrogator had set his mind to not letting one go. If anything, it only meant a weakness on the part of the captive.

"You may not be scared," Evan began again after a thoughtful silence, "but it doesn't mean that you can't _feel_ it. Surely you want to rest your arms, no?"

"I'd rather chop my arms off than to tell you anything." Jonathan spat.

Evan began to pace about Jonathan's dangling body slowly, each step producing a pronounced click that reverberated off the walls and the floor of the empty room. He made sure to walk closer to Jonathan, bit by bit, a tactic that he often used in intimidation that had proven quite successful in provoking unease. "We can always start small. For instance, why would a mercenary from the States want anything to do with Canada, or even an organization based in Canada? Is the organization that hired you based in Canada?"

The body that hung before him jerked slightly, struggling instinctively against the pain that shot through it. Evan would've pitied him if not for how stubborn Jonathan was choosing to be – he had every single chance to talk and spill the beans, but he had chosen not to despite the pain that he had been subject to. It was frustrating for Evan to work with someone who was so stubbornly tight-lipped, despite the fact that he had anticipated this situation entirely. He knew that Jonathan was well-trained, and he knew that Jonathan would put up with whatever abuse he would face. Yet, he was still annoyed at the lack of progress in the interrogation and how much resistance Jonathan was putting up.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Brock peeked in meekly, eyes darting past Jonathan's hanging body almost intentionally in discomfort. Once he found Evan's eyes, he motioned for Evan to follow him out of the room. Cautiously, Evan shot a look at Jonathan before following after Brock out of the interrogation room and into the hallway.

"What is it?" Evan queried the moment the door shut behind him.

"Tyler's only just been patched up, but he wants in on the interrogation. He thinks both of us will go too soft on him -"

"- Which is kind of true. Sorry, continue."

Brock composed himself, and then began again. "And the other things is that I can't quite get in contact with Brian. I've radioed him a few times but he hasn't answered. I'm afraid whoever it was might've…"

He shuddered, and his voice shook as it died out before he could even finish his words. Carefully, Evan reached out and patted him on his back, calming the shaky man and muttering words of consolation under his breath.

"Look – Brian's going to be fine. He can hold his own. You've seen how he's like in the field, he's an absolute beast. I'd say he could match up to Tyler if only Tyler weren't so tall and could take most people out in a punch. He'll be fine, alright?"

Gently, he patted Brock's shoulder once more, and tilted his head slightly to meet Brock's eyes, reassuring him silently as best as he could. It wasn't a move he was completely comfortable with – but it was a move that Brian had taught him once, a move that Brian had guaranteed confidently would set Brock's nerves back in place if he was shaken.

" _He needs to know you're there for him_ ," he had said. " _And he needs your strength. He's awkward on his own, so you need to get a little close-up and touchy with him sometimes. It sounds weird, but as long as he can see you and know you're not touching him because you're weird, he eases up just fine._ "

And ease up he did. Slowly, Brock blinked back, the anxiousness in the depths of his eyes gradually subsiding. He was still evidently worried, but the panic and the shakiness was, for the most part, gone. Silently, Evan wondered how many more ways about Brock Brian knew, and how Brian managed to figure it all out on his own.

"Evan." Brock whispered softly, straightening up and removing Evan's hand from his back. "'I'll be fine And Brian… I hope he'll be fine, too."

"That's good." Evan replied. "If everything's okay… I'll get back to interrogating him, alright? Just so you know where to find me. Go take a rest or something. And keep trying to get in contact with Brian. Maybe it's just the signal being unstable again."

Brock nodded, and turned to walk away, sidling only a few steps before he turned back towards Evan once more, just as Evan was about to reach for the door –

"Evan?"

Evan flipped around quickly. "Hm?"

"I know... that you don't oppose to Tyler's methods, that you think it's for a sort of good. That's fine, really, but… I really don't want any more bloodshed. You get what I mean?"

"Brock – sometimes we just… we _have_ to do what we have to do. And if it means blood, it has to be that way."

"Listen, Evan, please… It's just… after all that's happened, I just don't want anybody else to be hurt. And… you know how Tyler's like. Or rather, what he's _become like_. I don't want him to…"

"To what, Brock?"

Tyler strode out from behind Brock, now donning a sleeveless shirt with his left shoulder bandaged and cleaned of all signs of blood. In his right arm was a sheathed blade – his favorite interrogation tool, one that he threatened with as he pointed it directly at his captive's neck. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he approached – a look that Brock met and immediately shunned, looking down on the ground as if there was something interesting in it.

"To what? Kill him?" Tyler asked. "He – and his friend – nearly killed _me_ , Brock. They _shot_ at me and missed my _head_. I could've _died_ because of this motherfucker, Brock. If anybody should die, it's him."

" _Tyler_!" Evan chided.

"Oh, not you too. I know, and I won't kill him. As long as he spills, am I right? So he won't die, not yet. But that doesn't mean I won't be rough and that I won't make some blood spill. Because y'know what, sometimes that's the only thing that works with these assholes. Just plain old brute force and a real threat of death. It makes them talk better than anything, and you guys know that. So suck it up, Brock, and go worry about Brian or something."

Tyler waved Brock away dismissively, and Brock threw a final pleading look at Evan before he left, shaking his head slightly as he walked away. A triumphant smirk grew upon Tyler's face.

"There's nothing to gloat about, dude. He's our friend." Evan told him, eyes still glued upon Brock's frame as it grew smaller and smaller with distance.

"Dude's become a total ninny. He needs to grow – well, re-grow a pair."

"You know exactly _why_ he's become like that." Evan answered sharply. "It's the exact same reason why _you_ –"

"Why I'm like that, yeah, whatever." Tyler finished bitterly, annoyance biting into his tone. "But at least I don't stop fighting just because there's a god-fucking-damn setback. I fight harder, and I look to become stronger. He's just turned into a shell of his former self. He's completely regressed into this fucking little bitch who's so afraid to even see blood anymore. You need to stop making excuses for him, Evan."

"If I can excuse your behavior, then I can excuse his as well. Simple as that."

"Whatever. Are you going to stop bitching and interrogate this son of a bitch with me?"

Evan sighed, and nodded. As much as Jonathan was stubborn, Tyler was even more stubborn – and Evan had rarely ever won an argument against him. As the door swung open and they met Jonathan's struggling figure on the hook, the man's eyes darted to his two captors, and he ceased struggling, maniacal, clown-like laughter beginning to emerge from the depths of his chest instead.

"There's nothing funny at all, Delirious." Evan said.

"But there is," Jonathan laughed. "You had to bring him in. That's just sad."

"You'll be the sad one once I'm done with you." Tyler growled. "Honestly, Vanoss? The hook and you didn't do anything more?"

Evan shrugged, and simply took a seat in the corner by the door. "He's all yours, now."

Tyler smirked, and unsheathed the blade in his hands slowly, taking care not to exert too much pressure on his shoulder. Jonathan, however, was still gleefully giggling away – and suddenly Evan understood his codename. _Delirious_.

"Hey Wildcat," Jonathan taunted, mirth in his voice, "Why's your call sign Piggy when your nickname is Wildcat?"

The smirk on Tyler's face grew dangerously, and a dark flame in his eyes burned on with a murderous rage. "I'll tell you why," he murmured darkly. "It's a great laugh, I tell you."

Almost like a tiger, Tyler pounced upon Jonathan, blade drawn up to the man's neck. His tall frame obscured Evan's view, and all he saw was a sudden stilling of Jonathan's body, with his feet stiffening until his toes were pointed directly at the ground, and a droplet of dark crimson landed on the ground directly beneath it.


	2. Fall

It was there, just there. The carnage, the massacre, the fallout of the battle, the crimson stream that ran across the room from body to body. The only breaths left in the room, the only hearts left beating were their own, and Evan could hear their own heartbeats, pounding like loud drums in their chests as the commotion finally died down around them, as the final body fell to the ground. The holocaust was complete.

For a moment right there, just as Tyler stood over Jonathan and the suspicious drop of red landed to the ground, that haunting scene was all that Evan saw. It was as though his mind had decided to pluck him from the present and throw him back into his world of terror and nightmares, into the world of red and darkness that he had hidden away from everybody else as well as his own conscious self. He shook himself back into the reality that he was in, where the scene before him was still. After a short, silent pause, what little he could see of Jonathan relaxed slightly, as an audible sigh left the man's lips.

"Isn't it such a great laugh?" Tyler growled darkly, drawing away from the man on the hook and slamming the blade back into its sheath, and Evan swore he saw a slight glimmer of red at the very tip of the blade. As their bodies parted, Jonathan's body came back into view, and Evan felt a slight relief and knowing that the man was still alive. The only visible injury that Tyler seemed to have inflicted was a small gash on the underside of his chin where the blade had dug into his skin, and it was, thankfully, only bleeding very slightly after the initial droplet of blood.

The effects of Tyler's assault were not purely physical. The man before Evan truly looked shocked out of his mind, with the blood in his face drained to a pallor complexion, with glistening cold sweat gathering on his forehead ever so slightly. His lips were parted and dry, with his breath coming in short, small pants, and his eyes carried a dazed look as he tried to regain himself and remember his own duty. He no longer struggled on the hook, but hung sadly and hopelessly limp, as if all the strength that he might have had was shocked out of him.

"Now, tell me," Tyler asked, raising his voice, with the menace barely concealed in his tone. "Who sent you? What are you doing here?"

Jonathan remained silent, his breathing only finally beginning to slow and quieten down. Not a single word came out of his mouth, not even a cheeky comment or a sarcastic joke or a smug taunt made up to annoy someone. His eyes still, however carried a mildly glazed-over look that softened only ever so slightly with time. _Those god-damned blue eyes… It's…_

"Talk!" Tyler commanded, fingers clutching the handle of the blade tighter, his knuckles turning white with the effort. It was more than evident that he was holding back – it took him all the strength in the world to not take his rage out on the subject of their interrogation in the sheer annoyance at his lack of compliance. "Who is it?!"

"No…no-body…" Jonathan breathed softly, blinking slowly as he regained control over his body and his senses. A slight ache tingled in Evan's chest – he understood exactly how Jonathan felt, being scared out of his mind and all. He knew that very same feeling - the initial shock, that very first panic that ran through his body when he realized what was happening, or, what had just happened. He knew the feeling that followed – the feeling that it was all too much, the slow fade into a state of slight catatonia, when everything felt perfectly distant, when everything felt perfectly faraway and safe. It was almost as if he was watching everything happen from outside of his body – yet, a part of him still remained conscious, and actively fought the urge to sink to the ground and curl up into a fetal position where he was the safest. He knew exactly how Jonathan had felt, and he hated that he understood – after all, he was interrogating someone who was a potential danger to them. He mustn't sympathize – or empathize – with the enemy. It was against all the unspoken rules, and Evan hated that he had created even the tiniest bit of humane connection with someone that could quite possible kill him or cause him to be killed. On top of that, feelings could be manipulated, and the slightest ounce of connection could be used against him. And so he simply bit his lip and tried his best to disconnect himself from that little bit of sympathy that had sprouted.

"Nobody?" Tyler muttered. "Funny. Do you want to hear the story about how we knew about you? Why we knew who you were, why we were on alert for you? Why – when you came knocking at our doorstep – we were all too prepared to do what we had to do?"

Silence met his words, with Jonathan seeming as if he barely heard or cared.

"A little more than a year ago, the Tigre-Paulson alliance groups fell – and it wasn't even because of any external attack from other rival organizations either. By the end of it all, the two groups lost both their leaders – but more than that was gone. All the intelligence and all the money they kept hidden away from even the view of their members were all gone. That sound familiar to you?"

Another silence – but this time, Evan swore he glimpsed a small, almost shrewd grin grow upon the corner of Jonathan's lips.

"But there's more. Apparently, a good some time before the groups fell, a young man joined their ranks and worked his way very quickly up. After the incident, he disappeared along with the cash and the papers. But guess who took credit for it all? Another rival organization, one that would benefit greatly from the fall of Tigre-Paulson. And so the entire incident was shoved off as just one organization declaring war on another."

The corners of his lips began to curl up into a slightly bigger smile.

"A few months down the line, the same thing happened again – another organization falling to pieces, another strange young man, yet another different organization entirely taking credit for it. Rinse and repeat. Isn't it strange how this one strange young man that infiltrated all these groups seemed to work for so many organizations all at the same time? Or was it just that he was a mercenary, hired by all these different organizations at different times to destroy their opponents?"

Tyler grinned deviously, the coldness in his face and in his demeanor apparent. Evan knew that look straight off the bat – it was when he meant business, when he had decided that he'd waited long enough to have his own fun.

"But enough storytelling. Whilst you were wreaking havoc with whichever organization would hire you, we dug up stuff on you. Mercenary. Assassin. Spy. Possibly one of the most versatile around. So – tell me, Delirious, who hired you, and what the fuck do they want from us?!"

A snort rose from Jonathan's chest, and he lifted his head to face Tyler, eyes glinting with a newfound determination to fight it all. Just above his head, his hands were balled up into tight little fists, fighting against the pain and the strain that his arms were going through.

"Do you really – really think… that I'll spill just because you know some of the things that I've done?" He croaked out, voice much lower than it had been before. "Do you really think that I'll be scared just because you know me? Or did you think… that I can't play games as well as you can…?"

He lifted his head more, until he was looking at Tyler straight in the eye, the gash on his chin coming into full view. Momentarily, his eyes bore deeply into Evan's own before he glanced back at Tyler, a flaming determination burning away in the electric blue.

"If I were you, I'd be very afraid knowing what you know about me."

Evan could already see it in Tyler's eyes – the intense rage barely suppressed by Evan's presence, the urge to simply snap and go absolutely berserk, to simply go on a rampage and break every single bone in Jonathan's body. The absolutely stubborn defiance that Jonathan was showing irked him, and it showed. Evan sighed under his breath softly. _Please, Tyler. Don't._

"If I were you, I'd be very afraid of what _I_ can do. I'd be shivering just standing there where you are, facing a man that I know has single-handedly helped to take down several different organizations in a little more than a year."

The balled fists at Tyler's side began to tremble with the sheer force coursing through it.

"But I'm not you, I see." Jonathan taunted further, grin widening as he watched the effect of his words on his captor. "Because if I were you, I would have protected Kelly."

"SHUT UP!" Tyler yelled furiously, and a fist flew out from his side to meet Jonathan's cheek with a crude, hard smack. The body on the hook jerked roughly, tensing up once more as it met the impact that Tyler delivered. The flesh on Jonathan's face squished up as it was hit, the pale skin almost instantly turning a shade of dull red under Tyler's fist, and the red deepened as it left his face.

"Wildcat!" Evan shouted, standing up from his seat. As much as Tyler's methods have proven somewhat effective before, it was always bloody – and Evan wasn't ready to risk it all just for Tyler to beat Jonathan unconscious or even worse, kill the man before he could reveal anything. Jonathan would be tight-lipped as ever, refusing to tell them anything of value, and Tyler would simply be baited and provoked into hurting Jonathan again and again before the information could come to light. He had to stop Tyler in his tracks, whether he liked it or not.

"That's enough." He commanded, his voice suddenly incredibly sonorous as Tyler stilled, trembling fist raised.

"Ev – Vanoss!" Tyler objected, eyes still firmly fixed upon his target.

"Stop. We need him alive and kicking, and more importantly, conscious. There's no use beating him silly if he can't talk after that."

A small trickle of blood escaped Jonathan's lip as he smiled widely once more, pleased with his provocations. _He's absolutely insane,_ Evan thought. _Absolutely fucking… Delirious._

"He's not going to talk!" Tyler protested loudly. "He won't tell us a thing, and you know it. It'd be better if I killed him now!"

"Smart," Jonathan chuckled darkly.

Tyler raised his fist a little higher and hissed ferociously at Jonathan, an act which Jonathan reacted very little to. He simply hung there, more pleased than ever with himself, grinning like a madman who had found a toy to play with – and was adamant about playing with it until his very last breath.

"I said STOP!" Evan said, almost a little too loudly. "He'll talk. I'll make him talk. We'll all work together."

It was only after a long pause that Tyler began to reluctantly put down his arm and tear his gaze away from Jonathan. He turned away, sulking and biting his lower lip in frustration whilst grumbling under his breath in barely-controlled fury.

"Take a break, have a Snickers…" Jonathan laughed softly, prompting Evan to cast a dark glare upon him.

"We're not done here, my friend," he murmured.

"He's right, you know, I'm not going to talk." Jonathan replied almost cheerily, and Tyler stiffened up next to Evan, falling silent as he did.

"I've got all day. I've got all the time in the world, Delirious, and you know that. Whatever you're here for, be it intelligence or our lives, you're not getting any of it. And as long as you're here, we'll make you talk."

"And you're so sure I won't find a way to escape?"

"Oh, trust me – there's almost no way out," Evan grimaced. "And even if you do get out, you won't survive long out there. As long as you're here, you get to stay warm, be fed, and be very much alive. And if you talk, maybe you'll get a better bargain than you do now."

"Ev-!" Tyler interjected fiercely.

"Don't worry, Wildcat – you still have a job to do. If he needs some coaxing – you come in and do your bit. Like I said, we've got all day. And we'll make him talk."

* * *

"Take a shower," Evan growled as he nudged Jonathan into a tiny tin shower. The entire bathroom was cramped and consisted of an old toilet, a small sink and the almost-miniature tin shower, and Jonathan felt the world swell around him. _Am I getting claustrophobic_?

The past several hours had been an immense torture. He had been warned from the start that the assignment would not be easy, that he was up against an incredibly tough team, and that he could expect plenty of resistance and – in event of capture, torture as well as psychological manipulation. He had been shown the files of them all, as well as their background details and what they might be capable of. He had been warned to keep his guard up, to put a hundred and fifty per cent of his strength and focus into the mission, and he had been told to expect the success of the mission to hang upon a very fine thread.

He knew all that. He never once thought it was too easy when he approached the terrain, and he never once thought it was too easy when he scouted the area in search for their base. Yet, he still managed to set off their alarms, to alert them to his presence and to be caught. All was not lost yet, and so he put on his bravest face and tolerated every single threat, fought back against all the physical pain, and remained stubbornly silent against his captors' threats of pain, suffering and death. He kept his mouth sealed when he was interrogated, when he was hung up on a hook, when he was threatened with a blade to his face and when even when Tyler – that silly, silly Tyler – lost his cool and smacked him time and again.

He knew, however, that he was lucky. He knew they wouldn't kill him as long as he had what they wanted, and so all he had to do was to endure the beatings and keep his mouth shut until he found a way out. Yet, it was undeniable that the torture was rather unbearable. All he could do was to take solace in the fact that he would've fared a lot worse. He would've fared a lot worse – if not for the fact that he had what they wanted… and if not for the man named Evan who had stopped Tyler every single time he began to go overboard with his beatings.

Jonathan sighed softly, yet dramatically. "Are you going to watch? I didn't know you liked to be a peeping Tom."

"To make sure you don't make a run for it."

Jonathan raised a brow and stared at the man incredulously. "Here? Run from this tiny little room without any other exit?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "I won't give you any ideas, but it _is_ possible. Tried and tested. Now take your damn shower."

He couldn't complain. After a day's worth of interrogations, beatings, torture and resistance, he was exhausted. All he wanted was a good warm bath in a tub and a good meal to follow it all. It didn't matter that he was in a dark and dingy bathroom with a man that looked like he could absolutely crush him right behind him, watching his every move. It barely even mattered that his dignity would be completely thrown to the wolves the moment he stripped down. All that mattered was that he was being offered a source of comfort – and he would take it, gladly. After all, what was so dangerous about a simple shower?

And so Jonathan slowly began to strip down, attempting to remove the blue shirt that he wore that was stained with suspicious dark patches. It hurt even to move his arms, and as he stretched them over the back of his head to pull the shirt off, his arms throbbed and ached painfully. He grit his teeth, determined, and fought through the pain, pulling his shirt over his head and off of his body. His jeans were a lot less work, and he simply undid the zipper and shimmied out of it lazily, as he always would when he was back home after a long day of work.

"Are you really going to watch?" Jonathan asked once more, fingers playing with the hem of his boxer briefs. The lack of privacy wasn't always discomforting – but the fact that there was a complete lack of privacy in the presence of a stranger put him a little on edge.

"Just strip. Nobody cares what you look like naked." Evan said simply from behind him.

Jonathan stayed silent, brooding for a moment, before he finally peeled away his undergarments from his body. He was now completely exposed, and he was cold. The bits of cold draft blowing in from the doorway where Evan stood didn't help the situation one bit. All he could simply do now was to take the goddamned shower and hope for the best.

He pushed the button on the shower valve, and a torrent of water began to flow from above him as if it were a rainy day. It was a feeling he revered – the feeling of raindrops on his skin and how cool it was…

Except the water was – surprisingly – not cold. It was lukewarm, just the perfect temperature in such a cold place. He smiled to himself as he enjoyed the slight warmth of the water wash over his body, comforting each and every bruise and whatever cuts that he might've attained along the course of the day.

He stood there for some time, enjoying the feeling of it all, before Evan's voice intruded his moment of relaxation. He didn't know how long he had stood there, and how many times he had pressed the button the keep the water going – all he knew was that it was a comfort for him.

"Hurry up," Evan grumbled. "You're taking far too long."

Jonathan simply sighed and opened his eyes, allowing the last of the water to fall from the shower. He grabbed the tiny soap bar from a little ledge on a wall nearby and lathered himself up, scrubbing himself down painfully, before he pushed the button for another torrent of water above to rinse it all off. The soap suds simply gathered up and slid off his skin with the water that ran down his body, and just like that, the little comfort he had in the day was over.

"I'm done," he announced softly. "Did you like the show?"

"Very funny," Evan muttered, and just as Jonathan turned back to face the man, a large, rough towel was thrown upon him, covering his entire body. Quietly, he dried himself with it, before wrapping the towel around his waist to protect whatever dignity he had left - _that is, if I haven't lost it already_.

"No clothes?" Jonathan queried, half-smiling. "Man, the service is really half-assed here. I get a shower but no clothes…"

Evan pulled him roughly out of the bathroom and marched Jonathan before him, cuffing his hands to his back. "They're in your cell, idiot. Nobody wants to see you naked. And you get the shower because nobody wants you spreading your filth around. There – full service."

 _Ouch_.

"Then I want a refund," Jonathan retorted, attempting to hide as much of the sting as possible beneath the sarcasm and the monotone in his voice. "I asked for five-star accommodations with a beach view, you know."

"Not happening. Move." Evan commanded, pushing Jonathan forth roughly out of the dark room that they were in. Off they marched into a dim hallway, down another dim, cold hallway, taking turns every single time an opportunity to make a turn was presented. It was almost as though Evan was making an effort to confuse Jonathan and make sure that he could not commit where he was going to memory. Jonathan laughed softly to himself, his body shaking as he suppressed the laughter.

"What?" Evan asked, mild annoyance seeping into his voice.

"This is like that dumb game where you walk into rooms and shit… except I don't have any shoes and this place doesn't look like it's inspired by TRON."

Evan rolled his eyes once more, this time more in mild annoyance rather than sheer exasperation. A part of him was surprised, and it showed. _He knows what I'm talking about,_ Jonathan mused as he caught a momentary glimpse of the slight shock on Evan's face in the corner of his eye.

"You've played it too," Jonathan pointed out, eager to get into Evan's head. He was almost sure that Evan would see through and resist each and every one of Jonathan's tricks, but it was still worth a rough shot. "Was it bad? It was bad, right?"

"Nobody cares." Evan finally grunted out as they stopped in front of a small door. With a scan of a card, the door slid open, and Evan pushed Jonathan inside into the darkness.

"There's a bed somewhere in there. Get some sleep. We're starting early tomorrow."

The door slid shut on Jonathan, leaving him in the darkness of the room. A very tiny sliver of moonlight shone through a small opening at the very top of one wall, illuminating a small cot in a corner of the room where a thin, tough-looking mattress lay. As Jonathan settled down onto the hard bed, he wondered if he could squeeze himself through the tiny opening and make his escape. He amused himself with the thought, and just as he did, his body gave out slowly, lulling itself into sleep as the heavy waves of fatigue finally washed over him and took over.

He slept tumultuously, with countless dark, blurry figures sweeping about in his mind, following him about wherever he went, sinisterly creeping behind him and crawling after him with their withered hands outreached towards him. He woke up multiple times throughout the night, eyes flying open in shock as he scanned the room weakly before he fell back to sleep. It happened over and over again, until Jonathan finally fell back asleep one final time, too tired to wake up any longer.

It felt like he had only slept for a minute when he was violently jolted awake once more – this time not by his own accord, but by someone else entirely.

"Get up," Evan instructed aloud.

"Do I have to…?" Jonathan groaned, willing his eyes to open. The room, now bright with the bit of tiny, but intense sunlight that filtered through, came into full view, blinding Jonathan momentarily as his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"You damn well better get up." Evan kicked the bed, shaking Jonathan out of his groggy state. "We've got a lot to talk about today."

"I'm still not talking," Jonathan replied as he attempted to stretch. His arms hurt and ached all the way from the abuse that it had suffered the day before, and no amount of rubbing or tender massaging was relieving the pain.

"We're not going to put you on the hook again today unless absolutely necessary," Evan commented, glancing down at Jonathan as he attempted to massage a shoulder. "But you'll still be in the interrogation room, so get dressed and get up."

"Absolutely necessary, huh?" Jonathan laughed in sarcasm. Reluctantly, he stood up and pulled on the prisoner-like robes that was left neglected for the night at the corner of his bed, wincing slightly as his muscles stretched out properly for the first time. As soon as he was properly clothed, Evan grabbed a tight and painful hold of his shoulders and marched him out of the cold room once more in a strict, disciplined fashion, just like how he had been marched into the room the night before.

More and more as he walked, Jonathan could tell that something wasn't quite right with himself. He felt flimsy, like a piece of paper being hung out on a string. He wasn't simply lethargic – he was aware of every inch of his muscles aching, and he was aware of what he was doing and where he was going. He was weak, and he could feel it with every step that he took. His head only ever swirled so slightly, but he could feel it getting worse bit by tiny bit. He could feel his stomach lurching within him – and he suddenly realized why he felt that way. As they slowly approached the door to the interrogation room, he silently hoped that he could at the very least last through the day of interrogations.

Tyler was already waiting for the pair in the room, examining his weapon of choice in the little sliver of light that filtered through the top of the room. Brock sat beside him, evidently and clearly uncomfortable, with his hands gripping on the hard box that they sat on, knuckles turning white from effort. It was an odd sight to behold – a hardened man and a meeker man sitting in the sunlight, awaiting their arrival. With a dark glint in his eye, Tyler turned towards them, sunlight hitting one half of his face, leaving the other half darkened as if he were obscured in the shadows.

"About time," he growled, eyes glinting darkly as they focused on Evan and Jonathan. For a moment, his eyes were merely empty, devoid of emotion, but in an instant, Jonathan saw the rage and the menace in Tyler's icy blue eyes. It was a cold, chilling rage, and Jonathan felt his insides lurch once more instinctively.

Evan marched him into the center of the room, where a chair had been set up. The chair looked odd – and as Evan urged Jonathan onto the chair, Jonathan realized that the chair wouldn't budge a single bit. He wiggled slightly in his seat once more, confirming his suspicions that the chair was fixed in place.

"It's not going to work," Tyler told him, a cruel smile upon his face. "The spot where you're sitting is made to be compatible with this chair and fix it into the ground. You can't move it unless we move it for you and take the right parts out."

Jonathan stilled, and slumped back into the chair, not wanting to waste any more energy in trying. The moment his back hit the chair, he felt ropes wrap and tighten around him. In mere moments, he was tied to the chair firmly, bound and set in place.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Evan asked, his eyes darkening despite the sunlight. "Something small to start the day… who sent you?"

Jonathan watched as Tyler finally got up, stretching his long legs out as he began to stride towards Jonathan, blade drawn and glinting in the light. The cruel smile widened.

"Nobody," Jonathan whispered coolly. "Nobody at all."

"Oh, really?" Tyler drawled, drawing closer with his blade. "I'm pretty sure there's someone behind all of this. Who?"

"Somebody, then. Maybe even you."

Tyler snorted, partly in amusement and partly in anger. "Funny. Do you know what's also really funny?"

"What?" Jonathan asked, raising his head defiantly to meet Tyler's eyes.

The moment their blue eyes met each other's, Jonathan's face was met with a rough impact from the side. With a loud crunch, he felt Tyler's knuckles crack into the side of his jaw and his mouth, and instantly, he felt his flesh burn. The next moment, it the pain seeped straight into his bones and his teeth. As Tyler's fist left his face once more, the inside of his mouth was warmer than usual, with his cheek stinging and his jaw following suit. Adrenaline surged through his body now; he was suddenly awake as his body scrambled to gather all the energy it could to fight. _Fight or flight_ , it occurred to Jonathan – and he was in no position to flee at all.

As his vision slowly cleared, he realized that Evan had backed away from him and onto the box that Brock and Tyler once sat at, and Brock had made himself scarce entirely. Evan was looking away from them both and at the door, his head slightly tipped downwards as if he were staring at something extremely interesting on the ground. It took Jonathan a moment to realize that he was resting and dozing off – his head dipped every once in a while slightly, and his muscles were perfectly relaxed. It seemed that Tyler was taking charge, and nobody was going to stop him in his rampage this time. As Tyler raised his fist once more, he braced himself for impact. The pain quickly came, sending him into the same cycle of pain he had just experienced once before, again and again, his flesh searing as if it were burning in some sort of non-existent flame.

With each blow that Tyler dealt, Jonathan could feel his body giving way. Blunt force usually caused bruises, but the way Tyler was hitting him made a couple of fresh wounds open by Jonathan's mouth. Blood gathered at the side of his lips, and Jonathan felt a warm sticky liquid flood the inside of his mouth and flow outwards. Through blurry eyes he saw the dark red of the liquid dribble down the side of his chest and down onto his pant leg – a line of crimson red in a sea of white.

He wasn't sure when Tyler had stopped the assault on his face. The next thing he knew, he was groaning through his barely cooperating mouth as Tyler roughly grabbed on his hair and yanked his head up high to face him.

"Still think it's funny?" Tyler taunted, roughly kicking the side of the chair. He was panting slightly, his shoulders moving up and down mesmerizingly as he did. Jonathan watched the motion, feeling the mist in his head thicken and swirl. He had counted on the adrenaline to keep him awake, but it seemed like it was only a temporary effect, and the beating had served only to bring him closer and closer to unconsciousness. Weakly, he closed his eyes, willing his heavy eyelids to open as soon as they could.

Instantly, a slap landed across his face roughly, and his eyes shot back wide open reluctantly. Tyler stared down at him nastily.

"Answer me!" He spat furiously.

"No…body," Jonathan repeated, mouth and tongue torpid from the weakness in his body and from the beatings. He wasn't sure how long he'd last, especially with how insistent Tyler was with his methods and how stubbornly defiant Jonathan was being. He expected another smack to his head for his refusal to divulge what he knew, but Tyler instead rested his palm on Jonathan's collarbone surprisingly gently. The gentleness was short-lived, and after a few seconds of searching and aiming, he pushed down on the tender spot on Jonathan's collarbone. Almost instantaneously, Jonathan knew what Tyler had been looking for, and braced for the pain – but no matter how much he had prepared himself for it, the pain was still excruciating, shooting through his body like thick flames coursing through his blood. Instinctively, he wanted to flail and escape the pain, but his body was bound firmly to the chair. As if screaming would relieve him of his pain, he let out a pained, weak howl that echoed throughout the room.

Tears gathered in his eyes as Tyler lifted his hand from the pressure point on Jonathan's collarbone, releasing Jonathan from his pain. Upon Tyler's face was a triumphant smirk, as if he had won a battle.

"Why're… you so happy?" Jonathan gasped softly. "I haven't told you… anything… yet."

"I'd like to see how long that smart mouth of yours stays shut," Tyler replied, his lips thinning into a line. "I'm only getting started."

But Jonathan was barely listening to him. He had to rest for a moment, to gather himself and to conserve whatever little energy he still had in him. He already felt himself unable to focus, eyes wandering and darting everywhere else but at his captors. He desperately needed a moment to himself, a moment that he knew Tyler would not give. As soon as his eyes shut themselves once more, he was jolted back to his senses by Tyler's punches – but he was numb and sore all over, body barely registering the pain any longer.

He thought he lost consciousness then, but at some point of time, a voice – muffled and unclear in his state of near-unconsciousness – shot out from somewhere in the room. It was then that he realized that Tyler had long stopped attacking him, and was engaging in a furious, yet hushed debate elsewhere in the room. Exhausted yet curious, Jonathan prickled his ears and strained himself to listen in.

"But we're not done yet," Jonathan heard Tyler say. "It's not even noon yet –"

"But he's passing out, isn't he? He's not going to talk much if he keeps passing out." The other voice reasoned.

"Common tactic to make someone stop and take pity," Tyler bit back. "Remember Paul Gherridan? Pretended to pass out like a little bitch. Kel –"

He stopped short, coughed drily, and then started again, this time with an air of bitterness.

"Kelly thought he really passed out too. I warned her, but she decided to go check anyway. Didn't respond to anything, but when she went and poked his eyeball with a cotton swab, he grabbed her into a headlock. Motherfucker spoke up within 20 minutes after I made him let her go."

"But he wasn't chained up then. This guy's completely chained up now."

 _Evan_ , Jonathan thought. He'd finally identified the voice, the smooth, calm voice that reasoned with Tyler as if nothing could bother the man. The voice was unusually tranquil, almost taking on a soothing quality to Jonathan's ears. It was a wondrous respite from Tyler's constant growling and yelling at him – it was soft and gentle, almost like a lark singing away beside Tyler's thunderous roars. For once, he was almost elated to hear Evan's voice.

"Maybe you'd understand if you weren't _sleeping the whole fucking time_ ," Tyler retorted, the accusation in his voice clearer than ever.

"Well, I'm sorry." Evan said sheepishly, before adding, "Look, I think you should take a break. Go grab something to eat or something. I've rested enough – it's time I do my part."

A third voice, even softer than Evan's. "I'm with Evan on this. Take a break, Tyler. He's not going to talk like this if you keep beating him until he faints."

Outnumbered, Tyler let out a frustrated grunt and stormed out of the room loudly, making his exit as pronounced as he could as he slammed the door of the interrogation room shut as loudly as he could. After a short silence, the third voice spoke up once more.

"He hasn't eaten or drank anything for more than a day now."

"I know." Evan replied simply.

"Plus he was either running or here being… _interrogated_ for the whole of yesterday and this morning. It's no wonder he's fainting now."

"Hmph."

"I'm getting him something to eat and drink."

"Seriously?" Evan replied, suddenly louder than usual. "You know what Tyler will say –"

"Screw what he says. He's already passed out cold, and it's not going to benefit anyone if he can't talk."

Evan fell quiet for a bit, before beginning once more, slowly –

"At least… let me do it. Tyler knows he can't pull anything on me even if he's hopping mad. And it's also not as suspicious if I sneak a pizza slice or two."

"Hurry," the other voice returned as Jonathan heard a door shut quietly.

Jonathan soon felt a pair of gentle hands upon his face, gently examining the various bruises and cuts that were now scattered across his face. Gingerly, the hands lifted his lids, and Brock's kind face came into view, his eyes scanning Jonathan's as Jonathan struggled to focus his vision on Brock's face.

"How are you?" Brock asked softly, still examining Jonathan's eyes, before chuckling quietly to himself. "I'm sorry. That's redundant, just looking at you."

When Jonathan stayed silent, he simply continued. "Good news is, you don't look too bad even after what Tyler's done to you. I've seen worse from him, really. Bad news is, you're probably running really low on energy and I've gotten Evan to bring you something to eat and drink. And as long as Tyler is interrogating you, this is probably going to happen even more – so _please_ , I beg of you… just give us what we need."

"N…Never," Jonathan barely whispered, his throat dry.

Brock frowned. "I know you're doing your job, but this is my job too. This is all our jobs, and we've got to do it. And I just want to help you make it out alive, like it or not."

He conjured a handful of gauze from somewhere in the room behind him and began to gently dab at Jonathan's open wounds. Jonathan hissed as something cold on the gauze hit his skin and stung as it came into contact with the wound, but Brock merely shushed him gently, as if Jonathan was simply a petulant child, and continued dabbing at his wounds. Eventually, Jonathan began to relax once more, leaning back and allowing Brock to clean at the cuts on his face. It was a strangely refreshing experience after the insane torture that he had suffered at Tyler's hands, and Jonathan also felt strangely relieved with Brock gently patting down his wounds with little to no strength at all. Beside Tyler's brutish forcefulness, Brock was a godsend. Even before he knew it, he let out a small, satisfied groan.

Brock chuckled softly, and continued dabbing at Jonathan's injuries just as a click sounded at the door of the interrogation room, causing him to snap back sharply in wariness. Evan stood there, a plate of food and a cup in his hands, an incredulous look upon his face – and once Brock had recognized that it was Evan, he calmly turned back to attend to Jonathan's wounds.

"What the hell you doing?" Evan hissed. "If Tyler finds out –"

"I can't leave him like that." Brock defended.

"Just – stop doing that!" Evan barely managed to whisper. "Leave it and leave him be. We don't need Tyler finding out more than he needs to know."

Brock drew back reluctantly, and glanced at Evan before turning away from Jonathan slowly.

"Go back to the infirmary and pretend like you never left or something," Evan commanded. "I'll handle this."

And with a nod, Brock led himself away, leaving Evan and Jonathan in the interrogation room alone.

* * *

The way Evan felt in that moment when he saw Brock tending to Jonathan was possibly quite the strangest feeling he had ever felt. There was the initial shock at the sight of what was happening – his own ally tending to an enemy captive as if he were one of their own – and then there was the strange sting that hit him flat in the chest. Then came the panic as the realization of what Brock was doing set in, and the urgent need to keep Brock as well as their prisoner away from the wrath of Tyler. He barely knew what he was doing then when he instructed Brock out of the room and knelt beside the prisoner, who was relaxing weakly into the chair at the very center of the room.

The moment he knelt by Jonathan's side, he felt Jonathan's body stiffen and his breathing stop for a short moment. Sighing softly, Evan placed the cup of water against Jonathan's lips and gently tipped a small stream of the contents into his mouth. Almost instantly, Jonathan became alert once more, straightening up in his seat as he choked and sputtered furiously, body rejecting the sudden intake of fluids.

Evan watched as the man jolted back to life before him, and waited patiently for Jonathan to calm back down before he held the water up to Jonathan once more.

"Drink up," he murmured, gently tipping the water into Jonathan's mouth once more. This time, the man drank heartily, quickly emptying the cup of its contents. Once he finished, a small satisfied sigh left his lips as he sat back, eyes weakly and warily focusing on Evan's frame, as if he wasn't sure if he could trust Evan. The look in his eyes surprised Evan – the once-playful, once-defiant look that Jonathan carried about in his eyes had faded, and in its place was a man that was weak and afraid for his life and of the place he was in.

Gingerly, Evan held up the plate of mashed peas and rice he had managed to sneak from the kitchen, and simply dug a spoon he brought along with him into it, shoveling a good amount of food onto the tool and holding it up before Jonathan's lips. Jonathan needed no explanation or instructions then – he simply took a short, hungered look at it, before he leaned into the spoon and ate.

Between spoonfuls of food, Jonathan paused and stilled, eyes locked on Evan's.

"What?" Evan asked.

Jonathan's response was simple. "Why?"

"Because we still need you alive and awake." Evan replied, shoveling another spoonful of food into Jonathan's mouth. "There's no way we're going to let you go without you telling us something. Now eat up before Tyler comes back."

Quietly, Jonathan polished off the last of the food from the plate, and finally pushed back into the chair once more, letting out a small but satisfied sigh. His job now done, Evan simply retreated with the plate and the cup, intending to leave the room once and for all for the day and finally get some proper sleep after having a terrible night the night before. Jonathan, however, was the only thing in the way of his plans.

"Don't leave," Jonathan murmured softly, just barely enough for Evan to hear. It was these two words that made Evan still in his tracks. The words themselves had barely any effect on him – instead, it was the tone that it was spoken with, soft, delicate and almost fragile.

"Don't leave," Jonathan repeated, softer than ever, and he coughed slightly before he continued. "He'll… he'll kill me…"

"He won't."

"He'll kill me." Jonathan insisted. "He knows… he knows I won't talk. He's just waiting… for _them_."

Evan froze. After _that incident_ , Tyler hadn't been the most stable of people to be around. Evan's presence only barely controlled him, and it sounded almost believable that he would dispose of a prisoner that he deemed useless. What Evan had a hard time swallowing was the idea that Tyler would go off track and really commit the deed.

Jonathan continued. "You didn't hear it… He said… he'd do it… but he's waiting for my team. Then he'll – he'll kill me."

"He won't." Evan repeated once more, refusing to listen to the voices of his wavering faith in his friend. "You'll be alive and well. But you'll be here until you tell us what we want to know."

Jonathan peered at him with weary eyes, before dropping his gaze to the ground once more. Evan knew his answer straight off the bat – he wouldn't let a single thing out of the bag. The information was as vital to them as it was for Evan's team and the organization that he worked for, and compromising that information would be detrimental to Jonathan's mission. The man had already taken to tolerating Tyler's beatings to keep what he knew from them, and Evan could barely imagine how much effort they would have to put in to extract the information out from him. Briefly, in that one short moment, Evan considered Tyler's supposed plan rather compelling.

"You think he's right…" Jonathan sighed wearily, throwing his head back lazily. The sunlight shone down on his skin, emphasizing the bruises and the small, jagged cuts that had been so meticulously cleaned up by Brock. Evan stared, dazed for a moment, before curling his lip up into a thin, hard line. _Enough playing around_.

"He is." Evan said carefully and coldly. "If you don't talk, we can always wait for your dearest friends to arrive, and then maybe _they'll_ talk. From there on, whether you survive or not… isn't really our business anymore."

For a long while, both men fell silent. The slightest bit of energy Jonathan showed seemed to fade back out, and his head drooped slowly and steadily, until it hung from his neck loosely, face turned towards the ground. The room became strangely serene, yet tense with the prospect of what was to come hanging before them.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence, causing Evan to bolt upright just as Tyler's cold blue eyes peeked into the room. Obeying a gesture for Evan to follow Tyler out of the room, Evan shut the door of the quiet room behind him.

"Someone's cut the off-base satellite connections." Tyler announced brusquely. "I wanted to send out the memo for our supplies to base of operations but the signal's really fucking weak. I'm talking almost not there at all."

"Meaning they're close by?"

"Likely. Which gives us even more of a reason to go out there and fix it. I wouldn't mind catching a couple more of them for questioning, since that son of a bitch isn't saying shit."

"How soon?"

"Best we do it now while it's still bright. Brock can tend the base while we go get it. Maybe we'll also find Brian somewhere out there, too. I'm worried about that motherfucker. He's been away for what, more than a day now? Brock's probably worried sick."

"And what are we going to do with _him_?"

"Leave him. Or tie him up in his cell. I don't care. We need to fix it quick before it gets dark, or else we won't get our airdrop on time and I'm not sure if our remaining supplies will tide us through that. Besides, he's not getting out of that chair anytime soon." Tyler finished, smirking in a near-sadistic fashion.

The two men paused, before Evan broke the silence once more with a single question. "When?"

"About ten minutes. As soon as you gear up, we'll get going. I'll wait for you by the main entrance."

Tyler strode away, and soon Evan was left all alone once more in the corridor by the entrance to the interrogation room. It didn't take long before he moved again, the call of duty invigorating him, pumping his body full of energy. For a shot moment, he turned back towards the door of the interrogation room, considering if he should enter it once more just to check and see if Jonathan was well secured to the chair, but soon turned away against his better judgement. He started, running as fast as he could towards the armory to gather up his equipment. For a moment, he thought he heard something metallic clanging behind him, but brushed all his suspicions aside to catch up with Tyler and to get to work.

Hours later, they were furiously chasing after figures in the snow.

* * *

Jonathan wasn't quite sure how the world became clear once again. At some point of time, the sunlight seemed to be beating down on his face, and he heard hushed voices right outside of the door of the interrogation room. He wasn't entirely sure what he was hearing – but he was almost certain he heard something about a satellite. _Good_ , he thought to himself. _All according to plan_.

His heavy mind recalled the meetings they had together with their elders before the entire operation itself.

" _Intel says there's likely to be 2 off-base satellites,"_ a grey-haired man instructed. " _So the next step would be_ …"

" _Disable them so they can't call for backup from outside_." Luke piped up, setting his coffee mug down and wiping his beard.

" _Good, but at the same time you might want to consider leaving it as a means of distraction in case they do get Jonathan."_

 _"Hey_ ," Jonathan protested. " _I'm not that bad of a runner, okay!_ "

" _You're not, but they're skilled at hunting people down. You've seen the intel for yourself. This guy_ ," the man tapped on a photograph of a dark-haired man that was pasted on the board, " _practically knows the place like the back of his hand_."

Jonathan sat back in his chair, folding his arms with a pronounced pout on his face.

" _I'll suggest this_ ," another older man began. " _Take the satellites only in two scenarios. First, if Jonathan succeeds in the first part, then take both the satellites and storm their base. If Jonathan gets caught, then take the northern one, and escape with him towards the southern satellite and disable that._ "

Jonathan sighed, closing his eyes once more as he attempted to focus amidst the haze in his mind. He began fumbling about with his hands, wincing slightly as the coarse fibers of the ropes rubbed against his wrists. With each skillful twist of his hand and each nimble slide of his fingers, he undid the ropes that bound his hands behind him and that bound his body to the chair. The thick ropes soon fell to the ground with a solid thud, and he opened his eyes once more, welcoming the sight of the empty room back into his view. Slowly, he stood up and crept towards the door.

He had expected the door to be bolted shut – and he had expected that there would be someone outside, guarding him and making sure he didn't attempt to escape. Yet, there was not a single bit of resistance at all, from the turn of the doorknob to the single step outside into the silent hallway. After scanning the distance for any movement as well as cameras, Jonathan decided to make a run for it, bolting down the corridor with light, yet swift footsteps.

He was almost certain that his escape was about to be captured by the countless surveillance cameras that lay around the base, but he couldn't care less. All he wanted to do and hoped to do was to find the exit as quickly as possible and escape before Evan and Tyler could come back from their trip to the off-base satellite. The diversion only bought him two hours at maximum, depending on how badly the guys had sabotaged their satellite. That would be more than enough time to break out – but a questionable amount of time to make it towards the southern satellite.

For what felt like a good long time, Jonathan ran about the hallways, eyes darting from corner to corner in search of the main entrance. The hallways seemed endless and everything looked almost about the same – and he wondered quietly how anybody was even able to navigate the hallways at all.

It was only when he spotted a strange, sharp line of light in the middle of what looked like part of a wall that he realized he had been running past the door of the entrance all along. After quietly berating himself for being so unobservant, he looked around for a way to open the door and earn his freedom. His heart was pounding heavily against his chest in excitement, fear and anticipation all at once. The plan could go terribly wrong at any moment, and at the same time, it could go terribly right – and Jonathan hoped that the latter would happen. He wasn't sure how much longer this burst of energy would sustain him and he wasn't sure if he was even going to have enough energy to complete his escape, but the moment he saw the little hidden switchboard in the wall that would open the doors to his freedom, he knew he couldn't turn back.

He ran the moment he saw the light, and ran even faster once the thick white snow came into view. The freezing wind hit his body, and he felt his insides churn. He wasn't at all equipped to trudge through the snow, much less make his escape. The best he could do was to run as fast as he could to find the guys – and so he did. Bolting at maximum speed through the cold, he ignored the chills that were beginning to creep into his skin and bones. Even as his feet began to go numb from the cold, he never stopped running, knowing that at any point, stopping would mean death – or even worse, capture.

He speculated if he was hallucinating when he heard a faint, distant call of his name. His legs never stopped, a blur in the thick white blanket of snow, and kept moving for as long as his body still could move. He wasn't sure how long he had ran, but his body was gradually getting colder and colder, and he could feel the energy draining quickly from his body.

"Jonathan…!"

He smiled to himself. He didn't care that it might have been a hallucination – he was simply happy to hear that voice once more. He was happy to know that Luke was with him, and that Luke's voice was louder than ever in his head…

"JONATHAN!"

Luke's voice rang clearer than ever, louder than ever, closer than ever. _He's here_ , Jonathan mused. _He's real. I'm not hearing things. He's here for me. We're all going to do it. We're going to finish what we've started._

"JONATHAN!" Luke called out once more, his voice coarse, rough and deep. "Hurry up! I'll be under the cliff!"

A dark figure zoomed off somewhere in the distance, shouting inaudible directions to someone else in the distance as he ran off. Another dark figure appeared in the distance, this time seeming to grow larger and larger and less and less dark. As the figure came closer, Jonathan slowly started to be able to distinguish certain features of the person in his hazy mind – brown, almost bronze hair, pale skin that was patched with red, a sharp nose, a large brow bone…

"Craig," he whispered as he began to slow down, body finally succumbing to both his exhaustion and the elements. "So glad…"

His body crumpled and his knees buckled, and no sooner did he comprehend those facts, he was on the ground, teeth chattering and body shivering. He felt Craig's large arms around him, warm and hasty, and he felt Craig's strength on his weary body, dragging him up onto his feet. Reluctantly, he stood weakly.

"We have to hurry," Craig told him, a note of urgency in his voice. "Marcel's on the lookout and he's pretty sure the heat signatures at the satellites are gone."

"They found out?"

"Most likely. Plus, it's starting to get dark and we can't risk losing our way with you freezing up here."

Jonathan bit his lip gently, feeling the slightest of warmth seeping into his lower lip. He considered their options – the enemies knew the terrain and they knew their equipment. If anything, fixing the satellite would've been a simple job. Combined with how much he already knew about the enemy, how quick they are on the uptake…

"Let's go," Jonathan egged on, willing his cold, stony legs to move. Slowly, they shifted, trudging through the snow lazily but with urgency.

On and on the moved through the forest, and Jonathan wondered if he was dreaming when the trees became less and less dense and the night seemingly less and less dark. It was only when the moonlight hit his face, brighter than ever in the dark night sky that he realized he was out in the open, with only mere bushes nearby them and a cliff not too far away in front of them.

It was also then that he felt Craig's warmth leave his side, and a rush of cold met his back as faint rustles came from behind him. Momentarily, he turned, eyes searching for his friend and source of warmth, only to find Craig hidden behind a tree steps behind him.

"Go! Luke's at the bottom of the cliff and they're coming, hurry up and go!" Craig half-yelled in a hushed tone, eyes darting back and forth from the source of the rustling and Jonathan. "Go!"

Barely sure of what he was about to do, and definitely unsure of simply leaving Craig behind, Jonathan turned, legs heavier than ever, and trudged towards the suspicious cliff. As he reached the edge, his heart pounded fiercely, unsure and uncertain, until a familiar figure appeared in his sight.

"Luke..." He murmured. _God damn it, this isn't the time to cry_.

"Jump, Jonathan. It's not too high, and I'll catch you." Luke replied softly, yet confidently. His eyes expressed all the courage and all the strength in the world – something that Jonathan needed badly in the moment - and it seemed to be contagious, infecting every single cell within Jonathan, as he felt the same strength surge through him slowly.

The rustling behind him grew louder and louder, and the noise behind him almost became deafening just as a high-pitched yell pierced through the air.

"JUMP, DELI-!" Craig shrieked, his voice cut off into a muffled cry before he could finish his sentence. It was, however, all that Jonathan needed to prompt him to make the jump, and he fell through the air, feeling the cold wind breezing through each strand of his hair and caressing his face. The cold and the strange excitement that rushed through him as he jumped did not last long, and soon the impact of the fall came, only softened by Luke's body as the man caught him. As the two bodies met, the two men let out an audible groan as the pain shot through their bodies.

"That was… such a bad idea…" Jonathan groaned loudly as he struggled to untangle his body from Luke's. Their bodies refused to cooperate, and he simply rolled away from Luke as the man pulled himself up into a kneeling position behind Jonathan.

"It sure was." A voice came from just behind the two men, deep, dark and dangerous. A sharp, characteristic click of a gun sounded, and it took a split second for Jonathan to put two and two together. _There's a gun, cocked and ready right behind us, aimed at my head_.

Slowly, mechanically, he turned around to face their assailant.

In the bright white moonlight, a burning, flaming rage was evident in Evan's dark eyes. His fingers were firmly on the trigger, ready to fire at any point of time.

A struggle from above brought Jonathan's attention towards the edge of the cliff as Tyler marched Craig towards the edge, a sadistic smile upon his face and the barrel of a gun plastered on the temple of Craig's head.

"I think we got 'em," he announced to Evan, grin growing wider by the minute.

"I'm not so sure." Evan's eyes narrowed as he stepped towards Luke and Jonathan, gun still firmly drawn upon their heads. "There's more, aren't there?"

"Not telling you." Jonathan whispered, his mouth practically refusing to move in the cold. Right in front of him, he watched as Luke's dark eyes shifted, focusing on something behind Jonathan, as if he were silently sending a message to somebody.

As soon as that occurred, there was slight rustle – a rustle that caught Evan's attention as the man's eyes darted quickly towards the spot that Luke seemed to be staring at a short moment earlier. _Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Please, no…_

Craig's cry broke the silence. "RUN, MARCEL, THEY KNOW YOU'RE - "

As Craig was silenced once more by Tyler's hand, Jonathan turned towards the thickets behind him, only to see another familiar figure emerge from within with a long-ranged rifle in his arms, attempting to escape –

BANG.

The figure fell to the ground, yelling and contorting, hands darting towards a spot on his thigh where blood had begun to trickle.

Jonathan could almost hear the amusement in Evan's voice as he spoke.

"I see," he said, before raising his voice and calling out into the distance. "Where've you been the whole time, Terroriser?"

"Tracking these shitheads, that's what." A voice answered, just as a pale man emerged from the darkness and walked towards the fallen man on the ground. _No, Marcel, no…_

"He's the last one," Brian confirmed as he poked Marcel in his bleeding thigh with the butt of his rifle, prompting another anguished scream from the man. "Are we done here? I'm fucking starving and freezing."

"Soon we'll be." Evan replied with a dark, cold, smirk. "Soon."

* * *

 _Hey everyone! I know, I haven't updated in forever. It's been really busy, and it still will be so the next story updates will definitely take some time. I really hope this was still an enjoyable read despite the long wait and the weird writing what with me writing with whatever time I have! -delmin_


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